


The color today is grey

by Ambercreek



Category: Titanfall
Genre: Gen, I'm seriously just writing this to cope with my own shit right now, Insomnia, No Plot/Plotless, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 12:26:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8578483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambercreek/pseuds/Ambercreek
Summary: Jack can't sleep and he isn't sure what to pin it on.





	

Jack can't sleep and he isn't sure what to pin it on. Maybe it was the way the pilot that he shared a room with wouldn’t stop turning in his sleep - the mattress creaking with every movement. Maybe it was the Insomnia coming back after all these years to kick him hard in the ass. Or maybe it was the nightmares.

Memories of Typhon still burn in his brain, not being able to shut his eyes for a minute without seeing as the planet implodes in on itself, watching as everything goes up in char and ashes.

Vividly remember being ripped from BT as he launches himself into the Fold.

_It’s been a year, why was he still replaying these scenes?_

He has a new Titan now, her name is RE-9768. She’s sweet and cooperative, but she isn’t BT. Sometimes, if things got too stressful, he’ll call her BT’s name instead. The first time it happened it startled even him.

_It was a several months after Typhon. It took him awhile to come to the term that BT wasn’t coming back. Giving the green light to have the neural linked wiped._

_Feeling the pinch at the back of his neck was something he didn’t really miss. After coming out of the white haze, speaking out._

_“BT?” Jack said quietly, sounding deaf to his own ears._

_“No, I am RE-9768.” The Northstar commented. Jack felt something freeze over his chest._

_“Sorry,” Jack replied._

The pilot looks down at his own hands. Turning them over to stare at his palms. He could already start to feel the numbness run over his limbs at the breach of the subject. Scrubbing hands over his tired face.

Jack knew it wasn’t healthy to keep himself latched to whatever fractured memories he has of the Titan. Keep holding onto the loss hope isn’t good for his mind, there was no denying he’s probably got some PTSD from this. A lot of the things he was dealing with check off the boxes on the list.  Trouble sleeping, nightmares, hypervigilance, oh and his personal favorite, Memory loss.

So all Jack can do is lay on his bunk, staring up at that the ceiling until morning arrives. Then he’ll work himself close to death before retiring back into his room again and the cycle starts over again from there.

**Author's Note:**

> look im sorry with all the Titanfall fanfics, but right now it's my only coping mechanism because destiny isn't doing it for me and its really making me panic since thats the one thing that's kept me alive for 3 years.
> 
> anyways im sorry, its midnight and it's real depression hours.


End file.
